Simple Creatures
by dreamshell
Summary: The night before reaching the church, Bartleby tries to cheer up Loki, who's less than happy to be involved in ending existence.


Simple Creatures

The bathroom door opens and Loki steps out into the room, completely in the nude. There is a sad sort of smile on his face as he looks across the room to see Bartleby sitting on one of the motel beds, a book in his hands. Loki spreads out his damp wings--they've been needing a good cleaning for some time--and, smirking, starts shaking them furiously in Bartleby's direction.

Bartleby looks up from his reading as the droplets of water spatter all over him, his bed, and his book. He glares up at Loki, only to cover his eyes in surprise when he notices the former Angel of Death is in his birthday suit.

"Put a towel on or something, for Christ's sake!" he growls. "You look like Mattel's Ken meets DC's Hawkman."

Loki chuckles and walks over to Bartleby's side of the room. Peeking between Bartleby's fingers, he sees that it is a Holy Bible (no doubt taken from off the nightstand) his fellow angel is breezing through.

"Don't know why you're botherin' with that. You and I both know how full of holes that thing is."

"I was just reading something that reflects our current circumstance," Bartleby says, running his hand through his now-wet hair and flipping through the water-speckled pages.

Loki picks his pants up off of the floor, slides one leg through them, then the other.

"Oh, yeah? And what's that?"

"'And I saw an angel coming down out of heaven, having the key of the abyss and a great chain in his hand'," Bartleby quotes.

Loki zips up his fly and frowns at the morbid passage. "Oh."

"A little out of context, I'll admit, but still. Sounds pretty fitting, don't you think?"

Loki ignores the other angel and plops down onto his bed, belly first. He yawns and stretches his arms and wings.

"I can't believe I'm saying this," he says, "but...damn, I miss the Dairyland."

Bartleby gets on the end of his bed, positions his eyesight with Loki's.

"There's no turning back, Lo. Don't you get it yet? We were _meant_ to do this."

"Yeah, that's funny, 'cause I don't remember reading about all of this in the manual," Loki replies and taps a finger on the Bible in Bartleby's hands.

The Gregori sighs. "Some things can't be predicted. You said it yourself--it's full of holes. And you're right. It's _all_ full of holes, my friend."

Loki scowls. "Oh, 'friend'? You think I'm still your friend after you go and drag me along on this doomsday plan of yours?"

"Of course you are," Bartleby says, smiling (how ironic) devilishly. "It's been me and you since...since the Beginning. And it'll stay that way until the End."

Loki turns onto his side, faces the opposite wall.

"Whatever. We could at least order a little room service for our last night..._ever_. Couldn't we?"

"We don't need to eat, Loki," Bartleby reminds. He stands up and circles the bed, moving back into Loki's line of vision.

"Hey, a guy gets used to it after a couple eons. We don't need sleep either, so why're we spending the night in a motel?"

"Because," Bartleby starts, as if explaining to a child, "it's safer this way. We need to keep out of view. Anyway, you'll want to conserve your energy."

"For?"

A darkness passes through Bartleby's eyes. "For the cleansing."

"I just took a shower, man." Loki points to the bathroom.

The other angel groans. "Please, the 'stupid blonde' act got old around the same time the Byzantine Empire fell."

Loki grins. "Well, the ladies always seemed to like it."

"Like that matters. The farthest you could ever get was second base."

Loki sighs overdramatically. "Yeah, but I guess we'll never get to complain to the manufacturer, huh? What, with the end of the world and all."

Bartleby kneels over his friend. "Sacrifices, my friend," he says, pointing a finger for emphasis. "We all have to make sacrifices." He looks out the motel room window and a smile creeps onto his face. "But we can still have some fun before the lights go out..."

"Oh, yeah?"

"I saw an arcade across the street. And guess what they've got there?" Bartleby's eyebrows rise up and down. Loki thinks for a moment, then sits up, wide-eyed.

"No way."

Bartleby holds his arms out. "Up for one last game of skee-ball, old chum?"

Loki wags a finger. "You know, for a renegade angel bent on global genocide, you sure do know how to sweet-talk a fella."

Bartleby nods. "I have my moments. And besides, why should wanting to destroy all existence come between friends?"

Loki can't help but laugh. "Yeah, it's only an apocalypse, right? And you call _me_ a simple creature."

"Hey," Bartleby says and puts his hand on Loki's shoulder, "we both are."

Loki's eyes graze the motel floor. His cheery disposition wans and he frowns again, harder this time. He looks back up at Bartleby, their eyes locked.

"...I'm scared, Bart."

"What, and you think I'm not?"

Loki shrugs. "No, you seem more...I don't know...eager and psychotic."

Bartleby shakes his head. "Please, don't think for a _second_ that this is how I wanted it to go down." He grins again to keep spirits up and tousles Loki's hair. "But as the Good Book says, He works in mysterious ways. And I guess one of those ways is us."

Loki rolls his eyes but beams. "I'm so gonna kick your ass."

Bartleby stands up, plays offended. "You have the skills to back up that mouth of yours, huh, 'Krush Groovin'?"

His wings now gone into the ether, Loki is caught in the middle of putting his shirt back on. "Hey, fuck you, man. I said it before and I'll say it again; that was a good fuckin' movie."

"Sure, sure..."

The Gregori and the former Angel of Death leave their motel room arguing mildly, off to play the last skee-ball game they'll ever play.


End file.
